


ivy

by iwrotethisat3am



Series: a light in the room [5]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Physical Abuse, Star Wars Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwrotethisat3am/pseuds/iwrotethisat3am
Summary: how’s one to know?i’d live and die for moments that we stoleon begged and borrowed time.so tell me to runor dare to sit and watch what we’ll becomeand drink my husband’s wine.
Relationships: CT-7567 | Rex/Ahsoka Tano, Lux Bonteri/Ahsoka Tano
Series: a light in the room [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791976
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	ivy

**Author's Note:**

> this idea just kinda caught and gripped me thanks to taylor swift’s song “ivy”, which i highly recommend listening to before or after reading this piece
> 
> this is a long work but i hope you stick with it, in case you find it worth the read:)

The food had gone cold. Now, Ahsoka was not much for cooking; she found it an arduous and unrewarding task, especially because she derived just as much joy from a bowl of ramen as she did from painstakingly prepared chicken marsala. 

But tonight she had made the effort. She had poured hours into planning and preparing one such marsala. When she pulled it glistening and bright from the oven, she puffed up in satisfaction. Surely her labors would not be for naught.

But the food lay untouched on the tabletop. It had gone cold an hour ago.

Ahsoka laced and unlaced her fingers constantly, as if the repetitive motion might bring her some comfort. She sat on the sofa, knees curled up. She had tried the television, her phone, a book. Nothing had distracted her. 

Perhaps because she didn’t wish to be distracted.

 _Tick, tock_ , sang the clock, over and over, droning in her ears. _Tick, tock_ . _Tick, tock_.

Ahsoka hated herself. Hated the clock. Hated herself. Hated him. Hated herself . . .

In the back of her mind, she considered breaking the clock. But she did not move. Her eyes had been fixed unseeing on the far window, on the greasy, cheesy marsala, for what felt like mindless eternity when the lock at last clicked.

Ahsoka did not look away from the marsala.

“Ahsoka,” sang a voice just like the clock. 

She heard herself respond automatically—like the silence that follows the tick tock—in words that were empty like silence. “Hello, dear.”

Now it was time to ask how was his day, what had kept him so late. But Ahsoka knew. Did she turn to look at him? She saw him put down his coat, toss it over his armchair, move about the room. But the marsala was still fixed in her mind’s eye, gleaming in the kitchen light.

She must have asked a question, for Lux was saying something.

“The office kept me late again.”

His voice was gruff, like it had been strained from overuse. Ahsoka barely noted this. 

“I’m going to change,” he said.

Ahsoka did not look away from the marsala. She was saying something again. Her ears heard her own voice, light and sweet. But she continued to stare at the marsala. Lux was still talking.

***

Ahsoka worked a 9-5 at the local insurance company. She was an HR assistant. 

When she had applied, she drew upon all her charm, all her cleverness and ability, all her resumé, to impress her employer. Her brilliance fell on rather deaf ears. Her interviewer had had eyes mopey and thousand-yard-stare-y’s as a donkey’s.

He did offer her the job as soon as she left the office, however. Perhaps she had—well, _oversold_ herself, just a little, she thought.

That was four years ago. Ahsoka still worked a 9-5 at the local insurance company. She was still an HR assistant.

She couldn’t take promotions. Someone had to take care of the house while Lux was away, and the HR officer traveled around the district and worked long hours. She didn’t like to switch her job. This one was so convenient and close. She didn’t like to displease Lux, for he liked to . . . 

No. This was Ahsoka’s choice. Wasn’t it? Four years. Tearstains on the HR assistant protocol manual. A dusty photograph of her brothers. Ahsoka sat at her desk, primly typing away. _Tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap. Tap._

“Mrs. Bonteri,” said a voice, startling her from her work. Ahsoka twisted in her seat. Mr. Sinube smiled down at her. Next to him stood an unfamiliar man. Ahsoka focused on her supervisor.

“Mr. Sinube?”

The massive crinkle that was Sinube’s face split into a smile as he gestured towards the man beside him. “This is our new accountant, Mr. Rex Fett. He’s here to go over intake with you.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bonteri,” said Mr. Fett confidently, peering around Mr. Sinube and extending a hand. “Call me Rex.”

Ahsoka shook Rex’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Take a seat.”

Rex pulled up a chair from the empty desk beside Ahsoka’s. Mr. Sinube clapped his shriveled hands together and left. Ahsoka extracted a giant load of papers and dropped them with a _whumph_ on her desk.

“Holy,” said Rex, eyebrows rising. 

“Mr. Sinube briefed me on your situation,” Ahsoka replied. “This is going to take a while.”

Ahsoka was politely interested in the new hire. He seemed very nice—though that concerned her a little. Lux said that most men were nice only to Ahsoka because they wanted something from her—which, in her experience, was valid. But, aside from her worries, Ahsoka registered that Rex’s voice was deep and pleasant, and that he seemed very confident, and that his hair was _definitely_ not naturally blond. 

He required a lot of paperwork that was also rather staggering in its complexity: being ex-military, a graduate student, on loan from that company as part of its executive officer experience program, requiring relocation papers and forms, NDA forms, etc., etc., etc. In the course of their conversation Ahsoka learned that Rex had received an honorable discharge after being wounded in the course of action, was studying finance, was heading out of town in a few days to finish moving his things, and, importantly to Ahsoka, would be working various positions—not just accountant—in the office for the next year. 

“This requires a certain form that _you_ are supposed to have brought with you from your original company,” Ahsoka explained. 

Rex furrowed his brow. “I didn’t bring it with me. I didn’t know to.”

“We don’t keep this form with us,” Ahsoka said uneasily. “It must be from your company, signed with their information. We’ll have to order it.”

“How long will that take?”

Ahsoka took a moment to type information into her computer. She turned back to Rex. “It should arrive in the office Saturday morning, with the rest of the mail shipment.”

A look of consternation crossed Rex’s face. “I’m supposed to start on a deadline . . .”

Inspiration then struck, like a fortunate bolt of lightning.

“You’re here until Sunday?” Ahsoka clarified, lifting and straightening the papers they had already completed. “Why don’t you come over to my home tomorrow afternoon and we’ll fill out that paper and the rest of these?”

***

Lux was gone, so it was just Ahsoka, compulsively tidying while she waited. She didn’t understand why she felt so anxious about the whole thing. She was having a coworker over . . . a coworker. This wasn’t a big deal. 

So why was she washing the _antimacassars_ , for heaven’s sake?

She was in the middle of blow-drying them when a knock sounded.

“Wait here,” she instructed the antimacassars, and dropped them back into the sink.

When she heaved open the door, she found Rex standing on her doorstep, a casual smile lighting up his handsome face.

 _Handsome?_ What the . . .

“Rex,” Ahsoka greeted. “Come in. Let’s get this paperwork sorted.”

Perhaps she was being too nice. Or perhaps they just clicked well—they understood each other! Despite her concerns, being nice felt better than being severe, for Ahsoka found it tolerably wonderful to sit on the sofa with Rex, reading HR forms out to him. 

“Mrs. Bonteri, I love your home,” he said after just a few papers, clearly as sick of filling them out as she was of reading them.

“Oh, thank you,” Ahsoka said appreciatively, glancing around as if she hadn’t just spent several hours cleaning. “We . . . I love to decorate, it’s just so fun.”

“You’ve got quite the knack,” Rex agreed. “Why haven’t you decorated your desk at work?”

The question caught Ahsoka off-guard. The answer was that there didn’t seem to be a point—she was herself at work, with no pretenses for . . . anyone . . . and there was no one paying for expensive decor that she felt obligated to use . . .

“Because I work at work,” she said primly.

A real, beautiful smile cracked from Rex. Ahsoka watched him endeavor to hide it.

“Of course, Mrs. Bonteri. I’d, uh, love some decorating tips sometime to brighten up my workspace.”

“Call me Ahsoka,” Ahsoka said in a rush, her tension unspooling.

***

Lux came and surprised Ahsoka at work the day before their anniversary. He didn’t stop to see her—he had a meeting at 9–but he dropped off a basket loaded with chocolate-covered strawberries, an elegant iron paperweight, and a picture of Ahsoka and Lux from their previous anniversary, where they stood on a beach in Cyprus, awash in all the gorgeous colors of the sunset.

“What a sweet gift,” gushed the IT girl, Trilla. “You’re so lucky.”

Yes. She was. Ahsoka had loved that trip (even if she hadn’t been able to swim much for fear of makeup washing off or her new swimsuit being dislodged), so the picture was sweet. But she didn’t use paperweights, and there were enough chocolate strawberries to last her a week. She put the latter up on the receptionist’s desk so everyone could grab a bite and brought the photo and the paperweight back to her desk.

She was just reaching up to place her photo atop her filing cabinet when Rex came by, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

“Miss—‘Soka, I just had to thank you for the strawberries . . .”

“Thanks,” Ahsoka said, sparing Rex a glance. “They’re my anniversary gift.”

“Anniversary?” Rex said, sounding interested. “That’s sweet.”

“It is,” Ahsoka answered.

Rex stood still for a moment. Ahsoka was intensely uncomfortable with his proximity, but also secretly excited.

“Could you hold this for me while I move that box?” she said at last. She could not reach the top of the filing cabinet for the box of papers already stacked on top of it.

“Sure,” Rex said easily, taking the photograph. Ahsoka balanced on her tiptoes and concentrated on moving the box. If she had looked over her shoulder, she would have seen Rex absorbed in the photo.

He indicated Lux when she turned around. “This is your husband, of course,” he clarified.

Lux looked very handsome in that photo, Ahsoka thought with a small pang of satisfaction. 

“Yes. That’s Lux.”

“Well,” Rex said offhandedly. Ahsoka accepted the photograph back from him. “Happy anniversary.”

The rest of the day passed blandly for Ahsoka. She was not party to the whispered revelations received by Rex from Trilla and Barris, who were gossiping about Ahsoka’s gifts. Nor was she party to the expressions of jealousy made by the other girls, nor the look of shock on Rex’s face when he realized that, although Ahsoka was only four years his elder, this was her tenth wedding anniversary.

Rex began running into Ahsoka quite often in the cramped little office. It was always an accident. She would wait in line behind him at the water cooler. He would have to fill out an HR report as part of his transition. She would require help with heavy lifting. He would need advice on dinner spots. She had succulents and other decor she was looking to give away and thought Rex would be a nice recipient. Rex wanted her help in decorating his space. 

Ahsoka looked up one day and realized that the wall before her desk was covered in photographs, pressed flowers, colors, and beauty where some weeks ago there had been none.

***

She brought the paperweight and the photograph home and set them up in the living room, commenting to Lux how lovely both gifts were and how she liked to see them in the place she spent most of her time. 

And perhaps this was the reason Ahsoka moved them. But this could not account for the glint in Rex’s eyes when he noticed the gifts were gone and replaced by decor Ahsoka had chosen.

***

Lux was excellent with his words.

Ahsoka Tano had a bright and beautiful future. Everyone said so. She was a fifteen-year-old girl, but she played just as hard and strong as any man, and she did so in a man’s arena. She trained with Olympian athletes. She fenced with ranked masters and came out even. She had scholarships to top programs in the country already. And she was a fifteen-year-old girl.

 _She was a fifteen-year-old girl_ , everyone said, emphasis on _girl_. Ahsoka knew what they said about her. Knew how they felt about her. But thanks to the loving tutelage of her brothers, Anakin and Obi-Wan, she grew up not minding. She valued herself for how far she could come, not for how thoroughly she impressed the people around her. She valued her mind for its discipline and excellency, not how its wittiness caused others to think she was clever and sweet. She valued her body for how it helped her achieve her goals, not for how it garnered the attention of men, not for how her curves and her slimness and her beauty attracted whispers . . . and looks . . . and touches. 

She was so young, they said, said everyone, said her brothers most of all. Anakin and Obi-Wan taught her well! They taught her to respect herself and love herself. She grew up in their tradition. She grew up in a friend group that valued that tradition. Anakin’s friend Saw valued that tradition. Saw’s sister Steela valued that tradition. Steela’s boyfriend Lux valued that tradition.

Ahsoka Tano had a bright and beautiful future. Everyone said so. Lux said so. He was fifteen, too. He came to all her fencing matches. He rose in his career while Ahsoka rose in hers. They became inseparable, joined at the hip, best friends. Lux dumped Steela. He said he did. He said he did, but when he kissed Ahsoka, he only kissed her in her car at midnight when she had parked in his driveway, or under the bleachers in the school gymnasium. 

When Steela saw them kiss and went to confront Lux Ahsoka then learned that Lux said, he said, he said, but what he said was not always true, but Ahsoka was young. _She was a fifteen-year-old girl_ , and she forgave. 

Lux was very earnest.

Ahsoka Tano had a bright and beautiful future. She could stand to spread her good fortune around a bit. So she went and fell in love with Lux. He fell in love with her (everyone said so). But Lux wouldn’t come to her matches anymore. Wanted to move away. Ahsoka’s university of choice was in the opposite direction. Lux would be busy somewhere else. Ahsoka couldn’t . . . couldn’t do this to him . . . Ahsoka couldn’t leave her best friend in the middle of his quest for success, even if it meant . . . temporarily abandoning hers . . . 

She had a bright and beautiful future. She would find it again, even if she had to temporarily put it away. 

Anakin crossed his arms. Obi-Wan stroked his beard. Ahsoka had none of their arguments and advice. She married Lux. She was twenty now. So young. Promising. Excellent.

Lux and Ahsoka drove away from home the morning of their wedding, their car glittering in the dawn sunshine. The day was bright and beautiful.

She had a bright and beautiful future. Everyone had said so. 

Lux was very clever with his words.

***

Rex came over two evenings in a row. The first one he was making a retrieval for Mr. Sinube. He phoned in advance. Talked to Lux on the phone. When he came over, he _actually met_ Lux. Ahsoka felt like she was going to die the entire time—why, she didn’t know—but Rex and Lux seemed perfectly calm, even relaxed, about the whole thing, while Ahsoka tried to remember how to breathe. Rex stayed maybe five minutes, collected his items, and left. He called Lux and Ahsoka _Mr. and Mrs. Bonteri_ the entire time he was there.

The next evening he visited without warning.

Ahsoka, alone since Lux was at work, saw his car parked on the street, and she went immediately to the door, so that she opened it as soon as he knocked. He seemed surprised by her swiftness, but still, a pleasant smile brightened his face. 

She was instantly breathless at the sight of him.

“Mrs. Bonteri,” he greeted. “I’m returning the items Mr. Sinube borrowed. I would have come earlier, but . . .”

He was still talking, giving a plausible excuse for showing up, but Ahsoka was no longer listening. Shame and embarrassment deafened her.

Of course, of course he was here only for business. They were coworkers. She was being a little fool.

“Okay,” she said once Rex had finished speaking, accepting the box he held. “Thank you.” Then she hesitated—and, making an effort to stop overthinking, said: “It’s a little cold out. Would you like to come in for a minute?”

“Sure,” he said, again looking surprised, and stepped through the door. A November wind whistled in after him.

Rex and Ahsoka made awkward small-talk. Wandered through the halls of the Bonteri home, which felt more than ever like a museum. Ahsoka gave Rex a “tour” that included most of the parts of the house he had not yet seen. She kept him out of the master bedroom, feeling that Lux would not appreciate a strange man seeing his room. She did show him her little patch of succulents, which Rex seemed to like.

“So you really are a gardener, then.”

“Succulents are one of the few things I can’t kill by accident,” Ahsoka quipped. “Unlike regular plants. Or even kids.”

What was she saying? She knew someone who might have critiqued or ignored her comment. Rex laughed.

“I know what you mean. I have a bunch of little brothers and some of them are finally starting to have kids of their own. It’s been so long since I dealt with a baby that I thought I was going to break my niece the first time I held her.”

Grateful and intrigued, Ahsoka asked: “Do you have a large family?”

“Yes ma’am. Five little brothers. We emigrated from New Zealand before our parents died.”

They were standing in the kitchen. Ahsoka instinctively wanted to perch herself on the tabletop, but felt that that would be awkward to do.

“I’m sorry,” she said, placing a hand on Rex’s arm. “When was this?”

Rex sighed. “About fifteen years ago, in a car accident. It helped my brothers and I become closer, though. But what about you? Do you have any family?”

Although Ahsoka would have liked to ask him more questions, she understood his signal. Forgetting to think, she hopped up on the table, swinging her legs.

“Two older brothers. They live back home in Missouri.”

“Missouri? I’m from Arkansas,” Rex said brightly. “We were neighbors!”

Ahsoka smiled. “And now we’re office neighbors.”

Rex leaned his weight against the table, just a few inches away from Ahsoka. “Do you find it very cold here, being from the South?”

“I’m used to it. But if you were based in New Zealand and then Arkansas, you must find it freezing.”

“I’m always cold,” Rex said, disgruntled. “I’ve been inside for twenty minutes now and I’m _still_ cold.”

What if she took his hands? That would warm him.

Where did _that_ thought come from? She wanted to card her fingers through his short-cropped hair and rest her head against his. She wanted his strong arms to wrap around her, she wanted to lean into his chest—

Guilt and shock radiated through Ahsoka and she bottled off her thoughts. Rex was waiting for her to respond. Ahsoka said something trivial. Rex left soon after, and Ahsoka stayed in her house, alone.

***

Ahsoka and Rex became friends over the few weeks. She resisted getting to know him better—she really did—but it wouldn’t have been fair to hurt Rex just because she was weak. She endeavored to behave rationally, and mostly succeeded. They got to know each other a little better. Ahsoka learned bits and pieces about his time in the army, his time raising his siblings, and what he liked to do. Sometimes, when she felt weak or exhausted, she would accidentally let slip about her arguments and insecurities with Lux, or even go so far as to reveal that he wasn’t speaking to her at the moment. 

When Lux cropped up in conversation, Rex simply advised Ahsoka to speak up for herself and follow her heart. He seemed to alternate between calling her _Ahsoka_ and _Mrs. Bonteri,_ often relying on the latter when they discussed her husband.

***

She felt real—vital—happy—expectant. Christmas Eve was here and it was _finally_ time for the annual Bonteri party. A curl slipped out of her iron—perfect—glossy (artificial)—she ran her hands through her hair. 

Tonight would go off _flawlessly_. All her and Lux’s friends and acquaintances were coming over. There would be wine—plenty of it, thank heavens. And she got to dress up. The things Ahsoka Bonteri adored. Christmas lights glittered in the reflection of her mirror, illuminating Ahsoka perfectly as she applied makeup.

Her brush had to apply concealer most liberally to the bruise on her brow.

She, _she_ —not the Bonteri—didn’t like heavy makeup. It made her feel stiff and look unlike herself. But— _oh_ —oh well—what was the alternative? 

The answer was there, balancing on the tip of her tongue. She could almost say it, speak it, _scream_ it into her face in the mirror. With growing fear she noted that she was much too thin these days. Her hands went up, probed the hollows in her cheeks, applied some more makeup. 

“I could leave,” she whispered. 

Then guilt struck her like another physical blow.

Somewhere in the house, music was playing. It wasn’t Christmas music . . . it was some radio station.

_I wish to know_

_The fatal flaw that makes you long to be_

_Magnificently cursed._

Ahsoka went to the stairs. The doorbell rang when she reached the peak of the flight. Lux was already there, greeting the first visitor with a too-loud voice.

Frozen, Ahsoka descended the steps like a queen, jewels glittering around her neck, a picture-perfect smile upon her face.

The party was a smashing success. The house filled to the brim, as Ahsoka and Lux had expected it would. Both the Bonteris were more than busy with their guests. Ahsoka brought out appetizer after appetizer while Lux schmoozed and slapped men’s backs. Women spoke in lilting voices and flashed gaudy jewelry, Ahsoka included. The doorbell kept ringing. Music kept playing. 

“I love your home, Mrs. Bonteri,” multiple people raved over the course of the night. “It’s so beautiful. The lights are gorgeous! How do you afford all this?”

“My dear husband,” Ahsoka responded automatically over and over again.

“You’re so lucky!”

Ahsoka went to the alcohol more and more. Neighbors that she usually hated for how irritating they were kept popping up in her way, making jokes that became funnier to her as the night went by. People complimented the Christmas lights, the shining tree, Ahsoka’s sense of design. At some point someone smashed a glass and the tinkle it made was _almost_ as high-pitched as Ahsoka’s giggle. Lux’s laughter also sounded periodically through the night, giddy and grating. The room began to swirl. Ahsoka had certainly drunk too much, but wine was flowing freely from every bottle, and this was her husband’s liquor, who was she not to enjoy what he gave her? Glasses travelled by like swans down a river or reindeer in the sky. Lights twinkled everywhere—stars, all around her, and suddenly she was staring into the ones in Rex’s eyes.

“Mrs. Bonteri, sit down, huh?” His face was swimming in her vision.

Mrs. Bonteri? Ahsoka wanted to laugh. _Was_ she laughing? Peals of laughter were coming from somewhere. Ahsoka clicked her teeth together to make sure she was not making the noise.

“Rex . . .”

 _Oh, goddamn_ sang the radio from the next room over. Somehow Ahsoka could hear it clearly over the noise of all the people in the house. The lights seemed to shrink in scope and concentrate upon Rex’s face. How were they alone—they were alone in the library. Everyone else was very far away right now. 

The tiny, decorative Christmas trees Ahsoka and Lux had placed in the corners of the library glistened gorgeously, reflecting in Rex’s golden-brown eyes.

_My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand_

_Taking mine, but it’s been promised to another . . ._

“You’ve had a little too much to drink, ma’am,” Rex was saying. Ahsoka became aware that both her hands were placed on Rex’s chest.

“Why are you calling me ma’am?” she blurted, heart squeezing.

“Sorry—Ahsoka,” he said, startled. Ahsoka’s vision cleared just enough to let her see that Rex’s face was pinched in concern, brow furrowed.

“You don’t need to be formal with me,” she said. She could feel Rex’s heart race beneath his sweater. His sweater was much too thin. 

She could remove her hands. Should. But she didn’t.

“What was that?” he asked.

Was she mumbling? Ahsoka tried to enunciate as clearly as she could, saying instead: “Why aren’t you drunk yet?”

“I don’t like to drink,” he said. “Fogs my head.”

“A foggy head is all you need,” Ahsoka said.

“Need for . . . what?”

Maybe she was mumbling. Maybe she wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe she wasn’t herself. 

“Need to forget where you are. Who,” Ahsoka said. 

“You . . . need to forget? Why?”

The sincere disbelief in his voice was endearing, yet it made Ahsoka feel exceedingly awkward. She didn’t like to feel awkward. She had been feeling so good just a second ago. 

She wanted to keep feeling that good . . . 

She did not remember how she came close enough to kiss Rex, but somehow his lips tasted sweet on hers. Maybe that was just leftover wine on her mouth. But Ahsoka did not think so. He was soft and warm and gentle.

Rex was more intoxicating than any drink she had ever had.

When he broke away, it hurt her heart; and when she looked back on the conversation with a clearer (but aching) head the next morning, although she did not recall what they said next, she did recall feeling disappointed, and feeling afraid, and most of all she recalled panicked look in Rex’s eyes when he bid her and Lux goodnight. 

***

Lux acted as if nothing had happened at all when Ahsoka awoke; he and she exchanged perhaps five words, as usual, and then he was off for work—on a Saturday morning—and Ahsoka was left alone again.

***

Rex admitted to his coworkers that he was a lonely man. He was in a strange town, working long hours, and had no real way of meeting people outside of work. 

So it was a _service_ when Ahsoka offered to take him out.

_They were just friends!_

She told herself that furiously over and over. Of course, they were. Rex pitied her. He knew she was lonely and sad in her marriage and needed friends her own age. He also knew that her male friendships were quite lacking . . . well . . . he knew she strictly only wanted something platonic from him, and that their _kiss_ was a stupid mistake.

Because, of course, they were _just_ friends.

She apologized to him and told him that she was drunk and that Lux had laughed about the incident. Rex really did laugh it off and said he had been drunk as well. (Unbeknownst to Ahsoka, he hadn’t been, not at all.) 

The just-friends went exploring around town. Ahsoka thought she knew every inch of the place and Rex knew he knew nothing about it. She showed him the library, took him to a rec league hockey game, and showed him the town park, which he said he would have liked better if only there were fewer people.

Before Ahsoka could stop herself, she suggested that she show him her _favorite_ hiking spot.

That is how Ahsoka and Rex ended up spending a sunny, frosty morning trekking through the fields behind Ahsoka’s neighborhood. Ahsoka went first, plowing a path through the snow-laden grass, while Rex followed, massaging his gloved hands together. 

They paused together when they reached the top of a rise in the field.

“That’s my place,” Ahsoka said, stretching out her arm. “The meadow.”

Rex couldn’t quite see what she loved about the place.

Golden-green grass sloped in sweet, tremulous waves towards a dirt path. On the other side of the path, the grass rose again, wandering in snow-striped hilliness up to a dark forest whose leafless arms stretched spectrally to the sky.

“It’s something,” Rex said.

“Hey,” Ahsoka accused, turning on him.

Rex raised his gloves. “Hey! I didn’t say anything!”

“You definitely don’t think it’s beautiful,” Ahsoka countered.

“Well . . . It’s a little brown . . .”

“Oh, but you should see it in the springtime,” Ahsoka assured him enthusiastically. She began to slip and slide down through the grass, then turned back, glancing up at Rex with shining eyes. “That time of year it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. But come on, we’ve got to get to the forest!”

“The forest?” Rex said in disbelief. He was already very cold. But Ahsoka was plunging on ahead, brave as she always seemed to be, so he smiled and gladly followed.

***

They went on many hikes. Lux became aware of Rex and Ahsoka’s growing friendship but did not seem too concerned. He was very busy with work, after all. 

For her part, Ahsoka busied herself with many of the same things as usual, but now she had a friend to spend time with as well. This was something that had been hard for Ahsoka since her marriage. Her office experienced a great deal of turnover since most of its positions were entry-level; her coworkers were either college students, like Trilla and Bariss, or old people just waiting to retire, like Sinube and Nu. Outside of work, Ahsoka found it tough to make friends because she was usually with Lux when she socialized, and Lux was quite a—a garrulous companion. He sometimes talked over her in group conversations, or would point out how her lack of life experience rendered her unable to comment on the subject matter. 

Valid points. But luckily for Ahsoka, Rex seemed to be in her same boat, and he was _her_ friend, not her and Lux’s friend. And he and Ahsoka understood each other well. They liked the same things. They were about the same age, too, although in very different stages of life. But Ahsoka enjoyed Rex’s vigor and optimism and confidence, and although for the life of her she could not imagine what he saw in a staid, querulous, HR-assistant married woman, he seemed to enjoy being around her, too.

So they went on many hikes. As the days crept from winter into spring, the meadow defrosted and burst into bloom. 

Rex’s jaw literally dropped when he saw the tidal wave of flowers. The next time they came out, he surprised Ahsoka with two packed sandwiches and a blanket, so he and Ahsoka had an impromptu picnic among the wildflowers.

They also went into the forest, which had transformed from a ghostly castle into a verdant nest of life. Birds screamed all around them, sunlight trickled through the budding leaves, grass tufted up from the roots at their feet, breezes ruffled the canopy merrily, laughter flowed freely.

It was Rex on a solo hike who stumbled upon the abandoned house. When he first discovered it he went through it slowly and carefully, inspecting the two-room structure for danger. When he finished his analysis he stood in the middle of what must have been a living room fifty years ago and stared straight up through the gaps in the shingled roof. The gaps were so big that light dazzled through in spades, striping Rex’s face and the floor. Ivy spilled through the gaps too . . .

Ivy was everywhere in the house, like life and nature were reclaiming something old and forgotten. 

Rex stood and stared, enchanted, straight up at the ivy and sunshine weaving through the shingles and the tree boughs.

Two days later he retraced his steps and, this time, brought Ahsoka with. She wore a sundress, for she had thought they were only going as far as the meadow. Rex apologized for his miscommunication many times as they made their way through the undergrowth, but Ahsoka told him she would have worn the dress even if she had known.

She went still when she saw the house.

“ _Rex,”_ she said, then was speechless.

“Isn’t it amazing?” Rex grinned, leading her through the sweeping ivy when she recovered her powers of motion. “The place must have been redone fifty years ago at least, and its foundation is certainly much older, if it’s only two rooms. 

“But, Ahsoka, look. It’s all so lovely, isn’t it?” He paused by a tangle of flowers cropping up through the patchy stone floor, indicating a vivid orange flower.

“It’s amazing,” Ahsoka whispered, fingers running along the whorls and intricacies of the falling ivy. She revolved a circle, taking in the sights as Rex had earlier. Her dress flowed around her knees. 

When she stopped, her breath caught. Rex had a warm glow on his face, and his hand was outstretched to her. 

He could see everything now that Ahsoka could not. He saw her beautiful eyes that with him lost the darkness of years. He saw her lashes lifting towards him with sweet suggestion. 

Ahsoka took his hand and he drew her forward in a dance. Music wound through the broken boards and the shingles and the ivy and sunshine drooping down around them.

For such a woman, Rex felt that breaking a heart was worth it, especially if the one that broke was his own. For such a woman, he felt he could lie and sacrifice. 

_Oh, I can’t_

_Stop you putting roots in my dreamland_

_My house of stone, your ivy grows_

_And now I’m covered_

Ahsoka and Rex had spiraled around the floor that was ruined by the growth of wildflowers, peeking through the chinks in the stones. Now he lifted his arm; now she twirled, hair catching fire in the sunshine. Now he caught her and pulled her upright, bringing her closer to him.

 _In you . . ._ sang the breeze. _In you_.

***

Ahsoka’s dryer broke. Rex revealed to her over dinner—which they had had together once or twice, as an after-work stress-reliever—he was a very good cook—that he used the laundromat regularly, and that he would be happy to drop off her already-wet laundry for her.

Ahsoka had been cooped up at home all that Saturday, so she said they should go together. Rex offered to drive. He picked her up at four in the afternoon. They parked across the street and walked in together. Rain was blustering on the breeze over their heads. The laundry room was empty except for them and two loaded washing machines, which were chugging sluggishly on the far wall.

“Never seen this place deserted before,” Rex commented, hefting Ahsoka’s laundry basket over to a dryer. 

“Oh, I’m paying,” Ahsoka asserted when she saw Rex take out some quarters.

“Nonsense,” Rex said airily. “The only payment I require is your time.”

But Ahsoka was too quick for him. She leaned over and inserted her quarters into the slot, brushing closely against Rex as she did so. Her skin tingled. Rex did not budge.

(They had discussed their dance in the forest a week after it occurred—that was the only time they discussed it—mentioning only the beauty of the house and how nice it was for a dance there, saying little else, refusing to acknowledge anything else.)

They remained alone in the laundry room, not wanting to go outside and get wet. They discussed work, how their days were going, the poor weather, and other lovely things under the sun. At one point Rex dared Ahsoka to hop inside an empty washing machine and took a photo of her perched and smiling inside. 

For the most part, Ahsoka sat on top of a dryer, kicking her legs, chatting with Rex, who leaned against the machine opposite her.

“Do you have plans later?” she asked him.

“Why, do you have something in mind?”

“Just curious,” she said, dropping her eyes and then lifting them slyly at Rex, who laughed.

“I have plans,” he said, “later, but they’re not definite. I’m looking for some advice on them.”

“I’d love to help,” Ahsoka offered.

Rex shifted his weight, placing his elbows on the top of the machine he leaned on. “I’m considering . . . leaving our office. My training program is nearly over anyway, and my superior gave me the option to come home early.”

Ahsoka’s heart fluttered, refusing to sink just yet. “But you haven’t decided?”

“No,” Rex admitted. “I might choose to stay here for the rest of my program. And maybe, um, a little after.”

“Why?”

Ahsoka slipped off the dryer and padded over to Rex’s side. He didn’t glance over at her. From her angle, she had a clear view of the side of his face, which was dark against the rainy white light shining through the window. 

Rex didn’t say anything.

“It’s up to you,” Ahsoka said softly. “I’ll miss you if you go. But it sounds like it would be great for your career to keep in time with this program. But I’ll miss you . . .”

Her hand found its way to his arm.

Although she had touched him before, there was something deeper and more intimate about this contact than Ahsoka had ever felt before. _With Rex_. No, with anyone. 

Rex still didn’t look at her, didn’t speak for a moment. Then, “yeah.”

She then removed her hand from his arm. The moment needed to be over. 

Rex turned his profile slightly, eyes flashing golden at her. 

Then he straightened up, bent his handsome head, and kissed her warm and hard on the lips. Dazzling stars burst in Ahsoka’s brain, blinding her to everything else in the world. 

Rex pulled back. “I’m sorry,” he said.

_Sorry?_

Ahsoka had a hard time remembering just what he was sorry for. 

“I’m not,” she said, then regretted her words at once. But—Ahsoka had never been known for her level head. She plunged forward. “Are you really?”

“You’re married,” Rex replied. 

Should she even answer? Guilt, tremendous and sticky, spread through Mrs. Bonteri like an ink-stain.

“Then . . .” she said, “you shouldn’t have done that.”

Shame and something like anger weltered together in her throat. 

Ahsoka and Rex glanced around together. The laundromat was deserted—luckily for them.

Silence settled between them, cold and horrible to look at.

Ahsoka moved to the dryer and drummed her fingers restlessly on top of it, waiting for it to complete, so they could leave their awful situation. Rex said nothing. Ahsoka could _feel_ him behind her, and she could guess at what he was thinking.

“Why did you do it?” she said, her voice coming out small.

She heard Rex shift his weight. 

“You know why,” he said at last.

“No, tell me,” Ahsoka insisted, staring at the top of the dryer.

“Ahsoka,” Rex said, pain evident in his voice. Ahsoka didn’t want to look—didn’t want to see him suffer—didn’t want to see longing on his face, or the alternative, acceptance, which would be worse. 

She would have rather seen the look on his face when her lips were pressed hard into his.

“You know,” Rex said. “How I feel about you—it’s—why are you married?”

The question, for some reason, caught Ahsoka off-guard. She faced Rex. “What do you mean?”

“It’s—it’s just—” Rex was finding it tough to express his meaning. “You and Lux clearly aren’t—you don’t seem to like him—I don’t think he treats you that well.” He seemed to find what he wanted to say. “Are you _happy_ like this, Ahsoka?”

“Like what?” Ahsoka demanded.

Rex shoved his hands into his pockets. “Married to Lux. Living here. In this tiny town.”

Ahsoka took a step towards Rex, lifted her chin. “Why shouldn’t I be _happy?_ This is my home, this is my husband—these are my choices.”

“But _were_ they?” Rex asked.

“Of course they were. I don’t want things to change. I like where we all are,” Ahsoka fretted. “Including myself.”

“Ahsoka,” Rex said again, but his voice was duller, more somber.

“What?” she said. Icy prickles were coming down her neck, but her tone sounded nearly indifferent, for she could predict what Rex was about to say. 

But she did not predict his hands reaching out, catching her forearms, so that she was paralyzed.

“You’re meant for more than _this_ ,” he said in a low voice, eyes raking her with intensity.

Was that anger flashing across his face? 

Ahsoka’s mouth formed a thin line as fear washed over her in a tidal wave. It must have showed in her expression, because Rex already looked sorry, looked stricken, hands jerked back to his side. 

He tried to apologize, but thunder was still cracking in the distant sky, drowning out his words, and Ahsoka had already fled to the rain.

***

Ahsoka did not see Rex again for a while. Already their friendship seemed only a dream, and now she was back in her real life, which she spent with her husband in her big, lonely house.

She did not go to work for a while. Lux was home on a brief vacation, and he had prevailed upon her to use up her sick days and vacation with him.

The first morning they were off together, he rolled over in bed, placed a hand on her side. Ahsoka steeled her nerves against the sound of his voice.

“I want to try for a baby,” he said.

Thunder. And pouring rain. 

Wildflowers blooming in the wake of storms and stones. 

Ahsoka was out there, in the beautiful meadow, surrounded by trees and birdsong and warm, eternal sunshine. She was running through the green-golden grass.

“Why?”

The pressure of Lex’s touch lightened, then increased past its original weight.

“Because I . . . love you,” he answered.

Running, through green-golden grass. There was someone she knew waiting at the end of the path. Someone who loved her. 

“Okay,” Ahsoka said, but she was not saying it. She was in the meadow, running. “We can try.” There were wildflowers in her way, collapsing beneath her feet as she ran.

***

_3 missed calls from Rex Fett._

_1 voicemail._

A finger selected the playback button.

“Ahsoka, it’s Rex. I’m sorry for speaking to you the way I did, and _doing_ what I did—I know kissing you was way out of line, and I’m so sorry for that. I don’t want you to think you owe me anything, even seeing me again, but if I’m the reason you haven’t been to work this month please let me know. I don’t want to hurt anything for you just because I’m—I’m—I’m. I want you to know that I’m looking for another job, so it’s safe for you to come back.”

The voicemail ended. The phone shut off, then smashed into the floor.

***

It was a misty Saturday morning in June. The spring thunderstorms had not yet abated. Ahsoka was still off work at Lux’s insistence, and she did not resist, feeling it was unwise to return to work with certain people there, feeling that she should and would never see _him_ again, for he had not called her. It was easy to forget about him, sometimes—like right now, when rain was lashing the house, lending everything a cozy sleepy feeling and giving Ahsoka an excuse not to get out of bed. 

Lux was already up, somewhere around the house. They had had no results yet. They had only been trying for a few weeks, but Lux was less patient with Ahsoka than he had been when they originally met, and she was terrified that he would notice something was . . . amiss . . . with her. 

To Ahsoka’s relief, he did not yet seem concerned.

Rain trickled against the window. Lifting her eyes, Ahsoka could see the top of the distant forest. Somewhere in there was the ivy-covered cottage, where she had buried her heart, sealed it with a kiss, and left it behind. 

At least, she thought she had.

But if she had—then why, _when the crash happened_ —did Ahsoka’s heart thud so loudly in her chest?

“Ahsoka,” Lux shouted from somewhere in the house. “Ahsoka!”

She did not know why, but dread shot through her.

Ahsoka slid out of bed in a hurry. Fighting to compose herself, she paused at the door, then padded through the hall as casually as she could.

“Yes, Lux?”

She stood in the threshold of the hall, dressed in a silky nightgown and little else. Lux stood by the kitchen, leaning his forearms on the counter. He was fully clothed and breathing heavily.

Ahsoka then noticed the shattered shards of phone on the floor.

“Lux?” she said weakly.

Lux did not lift his head. When he spoke, his voice sounded like a death knell.

“I listened to your damn _messages_.”

“What?” 

Ahsoka did not understand.

“Lux, is that my phone?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,” Lux said, finally lifting his head with a suddenness that made Ahsoka tense. Lux must have noticed her move, for ugly anger gripped his face. “You? That Fett bastard?”

“What about him?” Ahsoka managed, terror clouding her brain.

“Don’t play games, Ahsoka,” Lux warned, moving around the counter. Ahsoka fidgeted where she stood—afraid to have him draw too close—then began to wander around the kitchen table, putting it between her and Lux.

“I really don’t know what you mean,” she said, trying to keep the trepidation out of her voice. “What was the message he left on my phone?”

“You damn cheater—”

Lux slammed a hand into the table. Ahsoka started.

“Stop jumping,” Lux ordered. “Why, are you scared of me?”

“No, no,” Ahsoka said quickly, but Lux was going on.

“I work, day and night, to provide for all these pretty little things for _you_ , and you repay me by _having sex with some other guy?_ What happened to _just friends_ —”

“We are, we are,” Ahsoka said.

“Don’t lie,” Lux roared. The table shook as he pounded it again. He advanced around it. Ahsoka began to move toward the living room.

“I’m _not_ ,” she said. Her words sounded cold and false to her own ears.

“You can’t lie to me—”

Lux made to move closer, strike her maybe, but Ahsoka stepped back quick as a blink. Anger—beautiful, sweet, wonderful anger the likes of which she had not felt for years—rushed through her, enlivening everything.

“Don’t touch me,” she spat. 

“Don’t raise your voice at me! You went out with that guy? Huh?” Lux said in a hard voice. “Huh? I’ll kill him, too.”

“He’s not the problem.” Ahsoka’s voice was rising exponentially.

 _“What does that mean?_ ”

Ahsoka somehow stood her ground as Lux followed her into the living room. “It means what I said,” she raged. “Why are you jealous, Lux? Do you care about me? About this stupid little life we’ve got?”

“You _bitch_ —”

Glass shattered, sprinkled on the floor. Lux had knocked a little statue off a shelf. 

“I hate this,” Ahsoka screamed. “I hated that sculpture. Go ahead and break it! Break it all! Like you like to hit me!”

“ _Bitch_ , I don’t touch you—”

“ _You’re_ the liar! Take advantage of all the stuff you’ve got, all the stuff you _love_ and like, because it’s certainly not me!”

“What are you on about? We’re both here in this hellhole, aren’t we? You like to live in hell,” Lux said viciously. “You make it one!”

Heat rushed up through Ahsoka’s ears. “You _ass!_ You did this to _me_!”

“ _I_ give up everything for you. All my time, my energy, my _money_ for your stupid _decor_ and _jewels_ and _makeup_ and crap—”

“ _Because you like it!_ Not because I do,” Ahsoka screamed at him. “ _I_ sacrificed my career for you. I gave up _everything_ . I gave up my damn _brothers,_ my damn _home_ , my damn _prospects_ , I gave up everything I ever wanted, for you, _you_ —”

She had ran out of room to breathe. She gasped futilely at the air, but hate kept everything else out.

“Do you think I wanted this?” demanded Lux, waving his arm. A long time ago Ahsoka would not have been afraid of his arm. But she was no longer that person, and her eyes followed his movements with growing fright. “ _Do you think I wanted this_ ? I would’ve liked a wife who _loved_ me, you know, _gave me something once in a while_ , was _pleased_ when I came home from work—”

“Oh, please,” Ahsoka interrupted, cruel and contemptuous in a rush of fury. “I gave you _everything that I had_ to be your perfect little housewife. You wanted _every damn good thing out of my life_ , you _piece_ of—”

 _Shatter_.

More glass rained down—this time around Ahsoka’s head. Pain blossomed above her eyebrows and something red ran into her ear, but she had hit the wall just in time.

“Shut up,” Lux screamed. “Shut _up! Shut up! Shut up!_ ”

“You’re insane,” managed Ahsoka from her position, kneeled on the floor. “You’ve _lost it_ , you—”

“Shut up,” said Lux, and something in Ahsoka dropped as fear made her empty.

The fire had left Lux’s tone, and he was approaching her, footsteps weighted yet confident, and something else was clutched in his hand. Ahsoka was not sure what it was, but it was likely something glass. Then Lux’s arm swung into view. He held her anniversary gift . . . the cast-iron paperweight.

Ahsoka’s mouth went dry with terror.

She did not think she could move. She could not speak. She was shaking, hands crunching the glass on the floor. Lux was approaching, looming above her. Just a few steps away now. 

She turned her head, threw up her hands to defend herself.

_Then came the sound of the door banging open._

Something crashed, pounded, and glass flew up again in Ahsoka’s face. Her arms caught most of it. She cracked her arms, peeking through them. Was Lux at her yet? Was he about to—to—

There, standing in the light of a broken window, was the man Ahsoka had never expected to see again. He had wrapped strong, steady arms around a vicious Lux. The paperweight lay among shattered glass just a few feet away from Ahsoka.

Rex restrained Lux as he fought. Ahsoka stared up, helpless, eyes wide. Rex met her gaze—his mouth opened—Ahsoka saw that he was about to say something—then Lux saw his opportunity and slipped free—

Ahsoka knew no more when something heavy and hard hit her skull.

***

_So yeah, it’s a war_

_And you started it_

_You started it._

***

Ahsoka woke up in the hospital with someone holding her hand. 

Music was playing over the television radio. Ahsoka made to tilt her head towards it, to identify the song that was playing, then reached up a hand when pain made itself known in her head. 

Her fingers brushed against a stiff papery turban. Her breath caught. Rex let go of her hand and stood up.

“You’re awake,” he said in a cold, constricted voice, as if he had been quiet for a very long time. “Don’t worry—it’s just a bandage. The doctors say you’ll be fine.”

Ahsoka could not make sense of her surroundings. 

“Rex—where are we?”

“In the hospital,” Rex answered with difficulty. His hands were reaching out for her—Ahsoka could just see them, even from her prone position—but he was holding back, clearly uncertain, fingers grasping the bedsheets instead. “Lux, um, hit you in the head with that paperweight. Look, Ahsoka, I’m _so sorry_.”

Ahsoka tried to speak, but the words would not come. Rex knelt, hands knotting together as he went on. “I’m so—I can’t believe—I should’ve come sooner to help you, but I should’ve not come at all.”

There were actual tears in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry if I broke your marriage,” he managed. “I’m so sorry that I got you hurt. I’m—I’m quitting, I want you to know. I’m leaving. Lux was—arrested. You’ll be safe. Your brothers said they’re coming down to see you, I know it’s bad that I’m here, I just had to—I just wanted to—”

Ahsoka tried to move again, but pain stabbed her in the temple. Ignoring it, she sat up. Rex immediately moved. 

“‘Soka, don’t—”

 _Now_ her ribs were hurting. Ahsoka’s hands went to her side. But she flung her legs over the edge of the bed anyway and looked at Rex.

“Thank you for giving me my life back,” she said brokenly. 

When she kissed him with the passion of starved years, he melted into her.

The hospital radio continued to play slowly in the background.

_Oh, I can’t_

_Stop you putting roots in my dreamland_

_My house of stone, your ivy grows_

_And now I’m covered_

_In you_

_Now I’m covered_

_In you._

**Author's Note:**

> this is definitely one of the weirdest things i’ve ever written, and a challenge to write, since i’ve fortunately never experienced relationship abuse. 
> 
> technically, in canon, i think that lux/ahsoka works much better and is more likely to happen than rex/ahsoka. also, lux is a genuinely nice, pretty awesome guy, so i’m sorry to do him dirty in a piece like this!! at least it creates new opportunities for exploring rex’s and ahsoka’s characters.
> 
> please drop a comment if you got this far and tell me what you think!!!


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